


you're the only one i wait for

by sinta



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, a liiiittle angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinta/pseuds/sinta
Summary: Woojin hates Jihoon—it took four years for Jihoon to come to terms with that.(or: you and your soulmate get to read each other's minds once you both turn eighteen.)





	you're the only one i wait for

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimxjeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimxjeon/gifts).



> hey zai!! so this isnt ... Exactly the prompt djfjsjs i took it nd ran away (i'm sorry aaahh) but here it is! i hope its okay;;

Woojin hates you.

You know this, you know this because somehow you're both still connected to each other through thin social threads despite drifting apart in high school.

You deserve it, maybe, a twisted part of your brain tells you, but you don't understand _why_.

You were there during Woojin's Embarrassing Videos peak, there when he was a chubby kid still getting through with his passion for dance, there when he pinky-promised you that you'd be best friends forever.

You were attached at the hip, a package deal, always always _always_ there for each other. 

Until he grew into his limbs and became a force to be reckoned with.

Until he became the dance crew's star, placed front and center like a stab in your chest every time they performed in school assemblies.

Until everyone started talking about him in hushed whispers behind his back when they think no one else is paying attention.

Years of talking on end became careful glances down the corridor, watching him laugh with his other friends, then Donghan taking you under his wing. You'd be lying if you weren't in the least bit thankful for it.

But it hurts to remember that the last time you talked was halfway through your freshman year in high school, the last words Woojin ever said to you being, _"Stop worrying, you'll go places."_

It's your freshman year in college.

(You didn't expect to be going places without him.)

,,,

You threw yourself into acting before Donghan took you in.

There's something comforting about honing your craft, trying to prove other people wrong, trying to be the best even though you know it's far beyond your reach.

You memorized scripts and pieces like they were prayers, forced tears out of your eyes when you needed to, said things with conviction because if you couldn't convince even yourself, who would believe you?

All the world's a stage: you let it seep into your skin, into your core until the stage became a part of you. The spotlight swallows you whole, bright and hot and shining in all the right places.

Things became a sort-of balancing act since then, the line between stage and reality blurring a little that you're putting up a front everywhere you go.

It's easy to pretend when the lights are on—even better when they're off because that way the audience can't see you mess up.

(Deep down you miss him but it's something you'd never say out loud.)

It took Donghan three months to break through the walls you carefully constructed around you like a cocoon; eventually Jinyoung broke them down, too, six months bridging the gap because you couldn't shut up and Jinyoung just kept listening.

You remind yourself that talking about it makes it real.

,,,

Maybe it's the universe trying to tell you something, the fact that Woojin sits in front of you in your communications class and has never switched seats since. The first class meeting felt like a sucker punch in the gut: Woojin entering the room fucking _smiling_ with the snaggletooth that, for reasons unknown to you, you still can't seem to forget. Doesn't help how he looks beautiful, tanned skin and lithe muscle, looking like goddamn _Adonis_ and, though you'd hate to admit it, it makes you weak.

( _"His hair, hyung," you said, head on Donghan's lap and Donghan's fingers threading through your hair._

_"Hm?"_

_"It still smells like watermelons._ ")

And that's how your Wednesday and Friday afternoons go, staring at the back of Woojin's head during communications and trying ( _failing failing failing_ ) to stop thinking about the scent of watermelons because you'll start feeling a pricking behind your eyelids after a while.

(You'll never forget the look on his face when he saw you, unreadable and making you nervous because it's the first time in years that he's consciously looked at you and you don't know what it could mean—if it meant anything at all.)

You get numb to it a few weeks into the semester, though; sitting behind Woojin doesn't feel like a sucker punch anymore, the ache thrumming quietly in your gut and in your chest. It tells you that you can't always get what you want, that things don't always pan out the way you want them to.

Maybe it's the universe being cruel whenever you take a seat behind Woojin and think that he's an Almost—so close but so far and you don't want to ( _don't know how to_ ) reach him, not when he's become nearly unfamiliar.

(And to him you're a ghost of the past too, you think and unthink.)

,,,

(You wake up on November 2 with the same pang in your chest that you've felt since you realized that things have changed between the two of you.

If talking about it makes missing him real, then it's real real way too fucking  _real_ and you don't know what to do about it.)

,,,

You aren't surprised to know that Woojin has taken the university by storm.

He's a dancing machine, and you know this, every step etched into your heart in a single line that you'll always carry because Woojin is _charismatic_ and goddamn amazing.

He becomes the rising star of the streetdance club when he auditions, the upperclassmen praising his work so often that it spreads and soon enough, Woojin has made a reputation for himself.

But it surprises you to find out that the dance department and theatre department are collaborating on a performance.

It's a musical—kind of, if the way the moderators described it is anything to go by. There's nothing wrong about it, you figure, but it puts you and Woojin in a closer proximity than you've been in years and it makes things a little harder to swallow. Worst case scenario—you'll have to talk to him, maybe dance with him.

But, another part of you thinks, things might change.

(Hope is dangerous.)

,,,

You're a hundred—a thousand—percent sure Woojin hates you.

It's in the way his mouth sets down into a frown during practice whenever he accidentally locks eyes with you, the way his nose scrunches up when you talk.

It's in the way you hear _Don't think about him_  said over and over in your head—not in your Head voice, but his.

Fuck.

You're in the Danger Zone, plunged in without any warning, neck-deep in the fear that grips you whole.

You hear Woojin's string of thoughts that follow afterward—something about _you_ and _confusion_ and _he'll have to tell Daehwi later_.

You're sure he can hear your exact line of thinking, because his gaze is heavy on you for the rest of the collaboration meet-up-slash-practice. You hate it.

You start to create a mental filter and hope for the best.

,,,

It fucking _hurts_ to realize Woojin is your soulmate.

(Your mom always told you about soulmates, how you'd be in sync because you can read each other's minds. You'd end up dreaming about the sugar-sweet romance it entails, hoping-praying-wishing you'd turn eighteen because you wanted a fairytale of your own, a grand revelation of true love in its purest form.

May 29—there was nothing.

Until now.)

And maybe it terrifies you, because you don't know where you stand with him, even though he's made it clear that he doesn't want anything to do with you, hasn't wanted anything to do with you since you were freshmen in high school. Cruel doesn't even cut it, grand revelation crushed into pieces knowing that the person you used to know so well and now have no idea about is the person you're destined to have _forever_ with. You don't want him to know that you still miss him, that there's still an ache in your chest that you couldn't get out, something you should've moved on from a long time ago but somehow couldn't.

( _"Jihoon-hyung," Jinyoung had said. "this could be a second chance."_ )

,,,

Fuck second chances.

It brings up feelings you'd rather not revisit, and you shove it all into the farthest parts of your heart and mind. But it doesn't work, because seeing Woojin has invisible fingers pulling at the connections in your head that draw out memories of the two of you.

(Maybe you were already a little bit in love with him back then, back when he was only beginning to show the world what he was capable of but already having forgotten you in the chaos of the fame and schedules and pressure.

You tell yourself that _maybe you are_ , when you watch him dance and his thighs are all you can think about.

_Maybe you are_ , when he runs a hand through his hair and want to run your hands through his hair instead.

_Maybe you are_ , when you see him pout and all you want to do is kiss him senseless.

You are, _you really are_ , especially when he laughs and smiles and the snaggletooth is peeking out from between his lips.

Loving Woojin is a precipice.

It's about time you fell.)

,,,

Okay, so maybe you're a little bit of an asshole.

You can't blame Woojin for trying to reach out to you after weeks of putting up mental filters and avoiding each other—you could only not talk to each other for so long.

And he probably wants to talk about the Soulmate Thing, the very Thing that squeezes at your heart and makes you wonder if you were placed in an alternate universe because what the fuck? 

Accepting the whole Woojin Is Your Soulmate thing is something you're not entirely ready for.

(Knowing he's read your thoughts about him makes you want the ground to swallow you whole.)

"Jihoon," Woojin says, the apprehension evident in his voice and even wilder in his head.

"I don't want to talk," you say, stuffing your dirty clothes into your training bag.

"Please."

"I'm busy."

(He knows you're not, can read the thoughts that pass through your head and he knows: you don't have plans after this.)

"Practice just ended."

"I still have something to do."

Woojin hears every single one of your thoughts, loud and clear, because he opens his mouth to speak then closes it again.

Then: "Okay."

You pretend you don't hear him sigh when you're halfway out the door.

,,,

Woojin tries to get your attention again after that.

He looks at you a few seconds too long during practice, he says hi sometimes, he even helps you with some steps despite you not asking.

You don't know why you're pushing him away when this is what you've wanted for the past few years—you and Woojin speaking to each other, the small sliver of hope that pulses through you. 

A small part of you tells you you're afraid, afraid that it might shatter and the thin layer of Okay you've built around each other will crumble and it'll be a replay of freshman year.

And you hate it.

It's too fragile and you'd rather not knock things down a second time.

(Goddamn these second chances.)

,,,

You're seated in the empty corridor outside the auditorium, legs tired and outstretched. 

You hear Woojin before you see him, the nervousness in his head swirling around in a way that you can't exactly decipher what he's thinking.

"Hey," he says, sitting down beside you, tucking in his legs underneath him.

( _Stop being so afraid_ , you tell yourself.)

"Hey," you reply, small but—steady. Still okay.

Woojin is smiling; it's the first time he's smiled at you in years.

You smile back.

"You really are going places, huh," he muses, glancing sideways at you. He's fidgeting with hands—in the years you've known him, it means he's nervous.

 _What for_ , you wonder, but you don't let the thought sit for too long.

"You're going a lot farther than I am," you say back, corners of your lips tugging up into a wry smile.

"Can't say for sure if that's true," and it sounds so sad, and want to ask why, you've always wanted to ask why, but you keep quiet.

A few beats. You open your mouth to say something but—

"I missed you," Woojin says.

You snort. "You didn't talk to me for years, Woojin, and I know it's because you hated me, but I don't know why and I don't know what I did—"

"I don't. Didn't."

"What?"

"I don't hate you. I didn't hate you."

"They why did you—"

"I was scared."

"What?"

"Jihoon," he says, and he thinks too fast for you to comprehend but you have a feeling you know where this is going. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

But Woojin doesn't need to answer because you can hear it in your head, clear-cut that you were wrong all these years when he kisses you.

You're an idiot, you think.

Woojin _loves_ you.

**Author's Note:**

> come hmu on my [w1 twt](http://twitter.com/pjhluv)!!! let's yell abt bunssodan togetherrr <33


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